


Coffee, Tea, Cocoa

by TriffidsandCuckoos



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Auror Power Couple, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Fluff, M/M, More like Auror Old Married Couple, Multi, No Plot/Plotless, Self-Indulgent, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-08-01 02:45:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16276340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriffidsandCuckoos/pseuds/TriffidsandCuckoos
Summary: Sleepy morning in bed with the boys. Credence has no idea how he got this lucky, and neither do they.





	Coffee, Tea, Cocoa

**Author's Note:**

> Still kind of overwhelmed that my fic with these three got, well, any response, so I dug through my massive backlog and found this self-indulgent sleepy fic for anyone curious as to how the dynamic works with them.
> 
> Originally written to tie into my elaborate a/b/o headcanon/fic-planning but totally works as just the three of them in any universe you like.

Credence slowly blinks awake to find heavy comforting warmth on one side and only cooling blankets on the other. Maybe that's what woke him. He stretches out his hand, and relaxes when he can tell the space hasn't been empty long.

He makes it all of two inches when the arm around his waist suddenly tightens, pulling him back. A low voice grumbles, "Wh'r'y'goin'?"

Credence could fight it. He doesn't. "Nowhere."

"Liar." When Credence turns his head into the pillow, he can see a single dark green eye glaring at him – at least as far as Theseus can manage a glare when more than half asleep. Percival has it down to an art, to the point where Theseus complains that he can glare before he can speak; Theseus, on the other hand, can't even pretend to wake up angry. Not any time Credence has seen, in any case.

Credence is tempted to pull away just a little, to see if Theseus relaxes his grip, but he already knows the answer. The fact Theseus was willing to manhandle him like that is progress in itself: at first he always touched Credence so carefully, not quite like he was made of glass but like he was something soft, something which might run at any moment. It was flattering, and a little overwhelming, but Credence much prefers it now that Theseus can just act like himself. And in this case 'himself' involves latching onto the nearest warm body and never letting go.

(Percival mutters that while Credence isn't as forceful, it's a whole lot harder to say no to him. Despite the phrasing, Credence doesn't apologise, and still feels a thrill at that.)

Instead Credence lets himself push in closer, feeling Theseus shifting to better tuck him in. There's a hand in his hair and he resists the urge to purr (for his own sake, Theseus has loved it when the sound has escaped him in the past). "Percival left," he murmurs, somehow relaxing even more into the bed. He used to feel so self-conscious just lying around like this, somehow even more so when with either of them, or both. That hateful but overpowering sense that this was slothful, a sin, for all that it felt so good just to lie there and be touched (be loved). They'd broken him down though, together – even if Theseus had done most of the work, wrapping him up in limbs and, on more than one occasion, actually letting out a whine at the loss. Meanwhile, Credence found it just as hard to say no to Percival as the other way around. Now it's just too easy to let it happen. They're not asking much of him, after all.

Theseus hums into his shoulder. "So you were going to leave me all alone?" Credence feels him smile. "How terribly heartless of you."

Credence knows he's teasing – even without the experience of Theseus' sense of humour (or 'sense of humour', as Percival usually says it), he can recognise the playful tone now.

There's no pressure to say anything back, so Credence just lets his eyes slip shut again. Possibly a few wisps of him break away, twining with Theseus' fingers or legs, because he hears/feels a sharp inhale followed by a soft sigh, somehow entwining them even closer. The blanket is pulled overheard, either by Theseus or Credence's magic, he's not sure. All he cares about is this soft warm cocoon.

With no clock and no open eyes on the window, Credence has no idea how long they drift together. He's only aware of himself again when he hears a soft curse from somewhere outside the pile of blankets. Then the corner is being lifted, and an unwelcome draft drags its fingers up his neck, making him jerk and let out a small involuntary sound of displeasure. Theseus pulls back a little, which only makes it worse.

“Such a bastard," Theseus says into his pillow. "You're the one who got up. I don't see why we have to suffer too."

"I'll leave your tea here then," Percival replies drily, pointedly ignoring the complaints and sliding back into bed. Credence finds himself caught in a dilemma of wanting to fill that void and at the same time recoil from the intrusion of cold limbs. He settles for curling further into a ball, burrowing deeper. It wasn't so long ago that cold was the norm; warmth is still a luxury, something to be preserved, valued. One of them chuckles – Percival, presumably. Theseus laughs higher, faster – he doesn't mind who hears him, and when he's happy his instinct isn't to hide it. Percival always seems a little surprised by it, for all that Theseus knows just how to pull those smiles out of him and tells Credence he has the right instinct for it too.

"Credence, there's cocoa if you want it."

Credence considers this. It's warm down here, safe, but cocoa does sound lovely, and Percival is pitching his voice just like _that_ , low and coaxing like a hand tracing his spine. Slowly he raises his head enough to peek over the edge of the blanket. Percival is gazing down at him with a wry smile, which both softens and looks far more amused a moment later. A gesture, and a mug floats into Credence's vision, just out of reach.

" _Perce_ ," Theseus whines as Credence sits up, rewarded first by a slow kiss and then by cocoa, "you utter _arse_." His hand's still resting on Credence's hip, and Credence covers it with his own, their fingers interlinking so easy. He smiles at Percival, who rolls his eyes a little. Honestly, it's probably always going to be a little disconcerting seeing him in the mornings like this, hair soft and inclined at any moment to fall forwards. Nice, though.

"Maybe I should just pour your tea out of the window," Percival muses into the steam from his coffee. "Or I suppose the bathroom needs cleaning..."

"Don't you bloody dare."

"It'll only go to waste, otherwise."

When Theseus moves, it's faster than Credence expects, rising out of the blankets like the wrath of God to lunge at the mug on the other side. Credence barely keeps his cocoa out of the way, focusing all his attention on not spilling a drop as the other two wrestle, Theseus constantly grabbing for the mug as Percival tries to shove him away while levitating the tea always an inch away from Theseus' grasping fingers.

Credence tolerates the sudden chaos for about a minute, until a splash of cocoa almost makes it onto a pillow before he _thinks_ it back, and suddenly wisps of smoke grab the mug of tea and wrench it out of Percival's magical grip. Theseus crows in triumph, and Percival shoots Credence a look. "You shouldn't indulge him, you know."

"Funny," Theseus says airily as he waves his mug in far too casual a manner considering how hard-won it was, "you used to say that to me about him." He screws up his face into a mockery of thought as he takes a long loud slurp, before smacking his lips and observing, "I haven't heard you say it a while, though."

"Do you want to sleep on the floor?"

"Do you think Credence would let me?"

Both of them look at Credence now. These days he can just about resist the urge to squirm away from the attention, instead just dropping his eyes to his hands clutched around the cocoa. Still, he does smile and point out, "You are being a little rude, Theseus."

Percival barks out a single laugh, one which sends shivers through Credence's stomach, while Theseus' mouth drops open in mock outrage. Credence knows it's not real, because he can already see the way he's fighting the urge to grin, and failing even as Credence watches. "You used to be so _nice_ ," Theseus tells him, giving up altogether. "Clearly Percival is a terrible influence."

"Yes," Percival says slowly, sitting back against the headboard to raise an eyebrow at the man sprawled across the end of the bed, " _I'm_ the terrible influence."

"So glad we agree," Theseus says airily – what he's called his 'hideous tea party' voice, for all that the description makes Credence confused and Percival roll his eyes. His fingers wrap around Credence's exposed ankle and he shoots him one of those sideways smiles, the ones calculated (by Theseus’ own admission) to make Credence blush and yet so very successful all the same. Still, Credence doesn't pull away, enjoying the familiar heat; then he feels Percival wrap an arm around him, tipping him just enough to press a kiss into his hair, and Credence never wants to be anywhere else.


End file.
